


i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired

by zooniah



Series: Empty Nesting Doll [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Light Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Recreational Drug Use, Sad Peter Parker, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Underage Drug Use, author is projecting, author is sad, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zooniah/pseuds/zooniah
Summary: Peter Parker learns that he can't ignore his problems forever. It doens't work out well for anyone. It just comes bubbling to the surface in the worst ways.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Empty Nesting Doll [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856899
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	1. i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from cardigan off taylor swift's new album folklore. you can't tell me it doesn't slap. yes it is completely out of context thank you.

Peter kept May’s death a secret.

He didn’t want people to know. He was used to the pity schtick. He was sick of it. The eyes that seemed to follow him around the room. The echoes of condolences that seemed to follow him everywhere that he went.

He wondered if people looked at him and thought the same things he thought about himself. The fact that bad luck seemed to follow him everywhere that he went. That the people around him were unlucky, or just unfortunate. That he was poison. That he deserved nothing good in the world. And the universe made sure of that. 

He didn’t want anyone to know so he trudged on with his pathetic life as usual. 

School used to be fun. He was doing great. Ask any teacher, and they would say that he was the brightest student at that school. 

They never said that he was the brightest kid at that school because he had to be. Because he had to fight for a place at the dinner table. Because he couldn’t afford the tuition, so he had to be stellar or he’d be back at the overcrowded classroom in the school downtown which barely had enough money to buy enough microscope for students to share in couples.

May refused to let him go there so she made sure he put school before anything. But May wasn’t there anymore. And his grades slipped.

If you asked Peter Parker’s teachers what they thought of him now, they’d tut and say he fell off the wagon and they didn’t know where he went wrong. 

But of course, they didn’t realise that there was so little of him left a small nudge in the wrong direction put him on an entirely different path.  
\----------

No one really took notice or cared until he got consistent D’s at school.

Of course, he was spiralling. So he didn’t really care. They flew over his head. He had other things to worry about. 

The days had started to blur together. He didn’t have time to worry about school work when he had bills to pay. Of course, it was slightly easier given that he only had to pay for himself. He never turned the heating on, instead opting to wear extra blankets and jumpers. 

He ate way less. But he found himself not really minding it. A part of him liked the small ache in his stomach. It was dull, like a fist had grabbed his organs in a vice and wouldn’t let go. But it kept him grounded. 

But even for one person, and after cutting corners, it still wasn’t easy. 

He managed to get a job at Delmar’s, he works every day after school and almost all day on the weekends. He did his school work on his breaks but it was barely enough to keep his head afloat. But if Peter had to choose between a scholarship and a roof over his head, he’d choose the roof.

Peter was burning the candle at every end he could burn it. He was exhausted. But he pushed forward anyway.

He would never admit it, not even to himself. But being too emotionally drained to feel anything, was better than feeling sad. The tiredness from overworking was better than the tired that came with giving up. 

Peter had become so accustomed to feeling nothing, the thought of everything he pushed down coming to the surface terrified him.

So yes, Peter didn’t really give a shit about his slipping grades. He had other things to worry about.

He was slightly annoyed by the fact that he had to leave class to go to the principal’s office- he was just about to have a nap before his 6 hour shift.

The bit that bothered him was that the principal called him into the office and spoke to him like he was a child. He gave him a lecture that he really didn’t appreciate and only have listened to. Maybe he saw that in his eyes. The far away look that never seemed to disappear. 

So he threatened to call May. 

Generally, Peter Parker was calm. Nothing really got to him. Even Flash’s relentless bullying was met with pacifim.

He didn’t cry after May died, not really. He didn’t break down like he thought he would. He bottled it. Put his head down. Worked his hands raw. Threw himself into work and the occasional spider-man patrol when Delmar thought the poor boy was too exhausted to work.

But having her brought up like that? To know that the principal would ring, only to be met with a full voicemail (because Peter rang it every night just to hear her voice). It made him mad beyond anything he’d felt before. 

He flipped out. Knocked everything off the principal’s desk, threw the chair he was sat on, and he stormed out. 

He could hear the principal call for security behind him but he didn’t care. He knew they would never catch him. 

He jumped the fence and ran. His head was pounding, limbs screaming in protest (more likely exhaustion) but he ran anyway. He ran back to his flat.

His shit flat. The size of a shoebox, that felt too big without May there with him. But now he could see it for what it really was. Tiny. And the walls were closing in. 

It felt like the entire building was alive. He walked over the blackened lungs and crumbling bones to get to the small part of it that he called home. 

But home was where she was. And now he had nothing. 

The walls were getting even smaller. He could feel the bare bricks scratching his arms. Or maybe it was just because he had his back against the wall as he slid to the floor. Either way, he knew he had to get out. And he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to come back.

He ran to his room. Ben’s old study, hastily thrown together to make a kid’s bedroom when they had been saddled with a kid to look after. 

Peter dug out his suit and without even thinking about it, swung himself out of his window.

\----------

When Peter patrolled, every now and then, he remembered exactly why he did it. And every single time, he regretted the long gaps between patrols.

He loved the feel of the wind. Feeling weightless as he swung between buildings.

He dismantled Karen,not wanting to hear whatever she had to say. And not wanting to deal with all of Mr Stark’s protocols. He just wanted to be someone else for a while.

He wanted to go back to his roots.

He had lost so many parts of himself over the years, and spider-man was a small piece he gained.

In fact, he was so enthralled in the freedom that he didn’t check his phone. He was so lost in the temporary bliss, that he forgot one important thing.

The universe was not in favour of Peter Parker.

Because if he had checked his phone, and hadn’t disabled Karen, he would have known that he had missed his shift at the Deli. And he would have known that it left Delmar alone in there, and that the place got robbed in the process. And poor Delmar was knocked unconscious and rushed to hospital, and consequently put on life support. 

If Peter had known, he could have made it there in time. He was only a block away. It all could have been prevented. 

But fate, luck, time, life; none of them had ever worked in his favour.


	2. i can go anywhere i want, just not home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker finally finds some peace. tw// drug use, implied prostitution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Online learning is whooping my arse right now and I'm barely a functioning person so I decided to finally write this and project onto Peter to try and cope.  
> Also, please remember that this story is going to talk about some dark themes, I have put the triggers in the chapter summary. Please don't read if you are not in the right mindset to do so.   
> And I'm sorry if you guys can relate to anything in here.

Peter hadn’t showered in so long, his skin had become itchy.

It was red and irritated and sore whenever he moved. Specifically the backs of his knees and the bend in his elbow. Probably because he was extra sweaty; when he ran out of his apartment he didn’t have much on him other than his suit. And he didn’t plan on going back any time soon.

He thought he was fine. He thought he was dealing with everything. 

Of course, he knew he wasn’t dealing with it in a healthy way. After all, he threw himself into work. But he told himself it was for the best, to make sure he had a roof over his head. That was way more important than his grades. He didn’t really care much about school anymore. It had taken a back seat, along with eating, extra curriculars, patrol, and Mr Stark. It just didn’t seem as important anymore, such a small insignificant thing, given everything else that had already turned to dust between his hands.

But that was fine. He wasn’t hurting himself in any way. Sure, he was tired all the time. But he was fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.

In the back of his mind, it repeated like a mantra. If he said it over and over again, to others, anyone who asked, and himself, it would become true. Right?

He didn’t feel fine as he itched his skin though. And when his stomach felt like lead.

He hadn’t eaten in a few days. And that was a packet of doughnuts he broke down and bought when his weak mind betrayed him, screaming that he couldn’t take it any longer. He kicked himself after, punished himself for breaking down and giving in. He knew he could have lasted longer if he wasn’t so weak. If he wasn’t a coward.

It had been a while. He definitely couldn’t remember his last solid meal. A hot meal. His brain briefly drifts over to May but he slams that door in his brain shut.

He couldn’t afford to think of her. Not like this. Not now.

Peter was meeting a friend. 

Not really a friend. It was...complicated. But the world felt so much lonelier with no one. So even if he was grasping at straws, he’d kid himself with a friendship for a while longer.

After Peter ran away from his apartment when the small apartment managed to get infinitesimally smaller. He never went back.

He didn’t think he would be able to take it. 

The only thing he had was his suit. And he thanked whoever it was he prayed to every night, for keeping the suit’s thermoregulatory system intact despite dismantling everything else. And his secret backpack. He kept one on the rooftop in case of emergencies, and the situation seemed to qualify.

There wasn’t much in it. A change of clothes that were slightly too small. Or was. Not anymore. Turns out a side effect of not eating, is losing weight. He wasn’t mad about it. 

It also contained $100 in cash. ‘Loose change’ Mr Stark called it. Peter had been making it stretch. 

In the 7 days post breakdown, he’d spent $30, on some donuts and some water. And some cigarettes. 

He’d heard that they help to curb your appetite. And Peter never seemed to be hungry anymore. And sometimes, at night, he’d look at the glowing ember clutched between his fingers and wonder if that was the last bit of warmth he deserved. And then he’d embrace the burn at the back of his lungs, and he’d tip his head back and almost dare whatever forces there were to take that small thing away. But deep down he wanted that. He never would have admitted it, but he wanted an out. 

He’d stashed the rest of the cash in his underwear, terrified that someone would try to steal it off him in the night.

His phone was dead. Not that he had much use for it anyway. But he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. For the same reason he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the science folder he carried around in his bag. Sometimes, at night, he’d look at it. He’d run his fingers over the detailed sketch MJ decided to put on the bottom corner of the cover, and chuckle to himself at Ned’s poor imitation on the other side. 

It hurt his heart to think that- of the boy that once was, there really wasn’t much left.

This happened to Peter far more than he would have liked to admit. His thoughts spiralled out of control. He didn’t have much else to do, other than to think. Think of everyone and everything. Where they are and what they must think of him. To think about what his life has become.

Mr Stark didn’t want anything else to do with him. He had no family left. No friends to search for him- he burned those bridges down. 

And he was getting smaller and smaller too. He could feel his bones jutting out from beneath pale, cold skin. Peter Parker knew he was going to disappear, and he wasn’t mad about it. He kind of wanted to.

But back to this friend of his. He’d met him under a bridge on a particularly cold and windy night. It was away from the bridge the local homeless occupied, he didn’t really feel comfortable there. Not when cars would drive through at all times of day and night, where people would leave and not always come back. Especially not when one of those nameless faces tried to take him in the middle of the night. Eyeing him up like a meal. 

It wasn’t for him.

So he made himself a home away from all that. So had Maz.

Maz was the kind of guy Peter wished he was. He wasn’t scared. Of anything.

Peter knew that he was the stronger one out of the two, physically at least. But still, he let Maz handle the confrontations. And he felt like shit every time he got banged up. But Maz did what Peter didn’t. He took it on the chin. Accepted it. Moved on with a smile.

Nothing bothered Maz, the way that everything bothered Peter.

Peter felt everything, every tiny pebble and bump in the road sent him up 6 feet in the air and his brain felt like it was moving around in his skull. 

Peter was a coward. The thought ran in his head as his teeth chattered at night. He inhaled and exhaled the word with every drag of his cigarette. 

Coward. 

Befitting of a former superhero. He dreads to think of what Mr Stark would think of him. When he could bring himself to feel anything. He felt numb at the best of times. But the bad emotions always seemed to creep up first, and stick around the longest.

Peter was hollow but he felt the sadness like an old friend. It lived in his very bones, made the empty space feel bigger. Louder. More all-consuming

“If it isn’t PJ!”

Peter’s head snapped up and he was dragged out of his bitter inner monologue when he noticed Maz heading towards him.

He went by PJ on the streets. It made it easier, no one knowing his name. No one really knew anyone on the street. Everyone went by nicknames or fake names. Clutching the last shred of their individuality close to them, playing the faceless, nameless easy to forget characters they become on the streets. 

Maybe it was to keep it safe. To keep it clean. A shred of hope. A badge to brandish if they ever made it back into regular society. As if keeping it locked away will stop any damage to the person wearing it.

Maz wore the same easy smile that he always did, yellowing and chipped. But it wasn’t any less radiant.

Peter hated himself more for that, too. For noticing the small details he shouldn’t. And the implications of where that could lead. 

“Maz!” Peter smiled back at him. He tried to hold it back, to stop it from splitting his face in half. He barely managed it. 

“Long time no see.” He smirked, ruffling Peter’s greasy hair, two strands falling into his face. 

Maz easily stood a head taller than Peter. Peter looked even more pathetically small against Maz’s broad frame. He tried harder not to shrink away at the realisation of it.

“Who’s fault is that?” Peter quipped, cocking a brow in his direction. 

Maz laughed a deep laugh and slung his arm over Peter’s shoulder.

“True, true. Very true. It’s my bad. But I’m back! And I even brought you a present.” 

Peter turned his head to look at him as Maz dragged them down the street towards where they usually camped out. 

“Where did you even go?” 

Maz touched a finger to his nose. “Ah, that’s a secret for me to know.”

Peter dropped it.

“Come on, I feel like I’m going to drop. You’ll get your present if you stop dragging your feet. And trust me, you’ll want it.”

Peter didn’t question him. Maz did seem tired, he started to put more of his weight onto Peter. If Peter wasn’t enhanced, he may have toppled over. But he managed to keep them steady as they walked from the bus station to the other side of town. 

Maz started telling the stories from his adventure. He often went out of town, leaving at strange times of the night after his phone screen lit up. Peter understood, of course. Money was money. If he didn’t hate himself so much, he might have done the same thing. If he wasn’t such a coward. 

But Maz always left a note. A clue, as to where he was going. A guess as to when he’d be back. But it was only a guess. No one could really be sure. 

He always came back with stories, though. He always made light of the situation. That may have been what Peter found so appealing. He was bright enough for both of them. Bright enough to drown out Peter’s enveloping darkness.

Peter managed to hobble along with Maz until they reached the fire escape to the abandoned donut shop- a personal favourite of theirs to camp at. He wasn’t sure if Maz could handle the climb, and it must have shown on his face, because Maz was then even more determined to haul himself up.

And he did manage it, even if he did have to grit his teeth and he broke a sweat.

This particular rooftop wasn’t anything special compared to other ones. It was dirty, usually damp, and had a weird smell. But it was slightly further into the city so no one really bothered them. Sure there was a chance that the police may come up there every now and then if there was a disturbance, but Maz noted that Peter had an uncanny ability to sense when the police were near so they could hide away from the edge of the roof and stay hidden until they passed. 

It was special to Peter because it’s where he first met Maz. 

Peter had been at the roof first, when he was hiding away from the world. Peter wasn’t sure how he got there, it got lost in the haze of events, everything seemed to blur together. He thinks he might have taken something, but he couldn’t really remember. Peter didn’t want to make a habit of it, but sometimes self-medicating isn’t all bad. It wasn’t a conscious decision. He just ended up there. And then didn’t move. 

He must have been there for a few days, just… waiting. Waiting to die. Waiting to be taken away. Waiting to be found. Just waiting.

And then Maz turned up, after having been caught in a storm. It was further into the nicer part of town than he would have liked to be but his client didn’t want to be seen taking another drive to the wrong end of town so he just left him there. Maz didn’t want to walk all the way back to the bridge and try to fight for a spot in the rain so he decided to just wait it out.

Maz stumbled onto the rooftop, drenched. Dark hair flat against his forehead. He stood still for a moment, looking for any threats. He met eyes with Peter, and froze. They sized each other up. Peter probably would have just ran away with his tail between his legs is Maz had tried anything. But Maz took one look at him and must have decided he wasn’t a threat.

And the rest was history.

Peter dragged Maz over to ‘their corner’ and forced him to sit. Not that it required much force, because Maz was ready to drop. And he did. Like a sack of rocks.

“What happened to you?” Peter asked him, looking him over.

Maz didn’t look visibly hurt. But Peter wasn’t so naive as to think that he was fine.

“Nothing.” Maz brushed Peter’s hand away from where it landed on his arm. 

Peter tried not to show the hurt from being rebuffed on his face.

They held each other’s gaze for a second before Maz sighed deeply.

“This guy…” He trailed off, looking past Peter at the street below, “just liked it kind of rough. It’s nothing I won’t bounce back from.”

Peter looked at him in mild disbelief. It was such a Maz thing to do, to pretend he was fine. It never occurred to Peter that Maz was doing it for his sake.

“Enough about me! Do you want your present or not?” He cocked an eyebrow, already rummaging through his bag.

Peter rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, and then gestured for Maz to continue to look for whatever it is he was looking for.

“Here!” He said triumphantly, holding out a little baggy.

It was a small, clear bag with a few blue pills in them.

“Maz…” Peter breathed out, unsure.

It’s not that Peter didn’t want to try them. He’d heard about them, about how they make you feel. About how they could make him forget. 

But he also knew that by taking them, it was taking him a step away from getting back to the Peter he was before. The streets changed him, but Peter drew some lines for himself that he never wanted to cross. And one of those lines was taking drugs.

Peter saw what it did to some of the other people on the street. He knew a lot of them probably went into it with a ‘just this once’ attitude, and then got hooked. 

But a small part of Peter wanted to think he was better than that. Afterall, he was Spiderman. And that small part of Peter also really wanted to do it. He wanted to chase a few hours of peace. 

“Come on, Peter.” Maz moved to sit next to him, nudging him with his shoulder.

And then he gave Peter a smile. That smile. And how was Peter ever supposed to say no?

Maz must have seen the resignation on Peter’s face, because his smile got even brighter as he fished one of the blue pills out of the small bag and put it in Peter’s hand. 

“It’s pretty strong so take half.” Maz shot him a warning before taking a full pill and swallowing it whole.

Peter gave him a flat look as in to say ‘why is it one rule for me and another for you?’

“I’ve built up a bit of a tolerance.” He tried to say nonchalantly, although he looked away from Peter as he said it.

Peter shot him another look, before taking a bottle of water out of his bag and knocking back the full pill with a swig of water. 

Peter assumed one pill wouldn’t touch him, due to his fast metabolism. And he wanted to feel it. Really feel it. 

“Ballsy move,” Maz commented, although he didn’t seem to be surprised or disapprove “It’ll be about half an hour before it kicks in.” 

They sat in silence for a while but Peter felt restless. He couldn’t feel anything, and he didn’t know what to expect. He was just waiting for something to happen.

“Where did you get these from, anyway?”

Maz was laid down on the floor, his backpack under his head, eyes shut as he faced the sky.  
He didn’t look Peter’s way as he paced in front of him, and didn’t turn to face him after Peter asked his question.

“Client gave it. A bonus on top of the normal rate.” Maz laughed darkly. Peter felt bad for bringing it up in the first place.

“I wasn’t going to turn it down. It’s good shit apparently, and not cheap either. And I thought I’d share with you.” After saying that, Maz peeled open an eye to look at Peter. “Seems like you need it, definitely need it more than me.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious with how shit she felt recently. 

“Thanks.” He said timidly. 

For a second, they just held each other’s gaze. Maz broke away first.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

They sat in silence for a bit longer, Peter no longer in the mood to try to question Maz about anything else. He already felt bad for bringing up the client. He knew Maz didn’t like talking about it. And deep down Peter knew where he got it from. And he didn’t know why he decided to keep pushing anyway. 

Peter didn’t think of it until much later, when he realised he pushed because he hated the fact that Maz had a secret too. A much darker secret than the one Peter harboured. 

The day slowly melted into night as Peter waited for the pill to hit. He was staring at the sky, remembering what it felt like to swing and slice through the New York skyline after a job well done at being the friendly neighbourhood spiderman. He remembered going to space.

Suddenly his mood turned sour. He thought about Thanos, and being in the soul world. Almost losing Tony. Everything that Thanos took from him. And everything he’s ever lost.

“Stop,” Maz’s voice broke through Peter’s sudden downward spiral. “If you go into a high with a bad mood, you’ll have a bad trip. Try to think about something nice.”

So Peter started to think about everything that could have been. Normally, he didn’t let himself fantasize. He didn’t want to dwell on how his life could be because he knew that it wouldn’t ever happen, and he’d just feel even worse when he had to re-enter reality. 

But this time… This time he would let himself think of something nice.

He thought of Maz. He thought of them leaving the streets, getting cleaned up. Neither of them having to do anything dodgy for money ever again. Not having to live off of charity.

And then suddenly, it’s like liquid euphoria started to replace the blood in his body. He felt floaty, and on edge in the best way. He felt like he was in a dream, but electric at the same time. 

“Maz…” He whispered, his own voice sounding so different. 

He slowly sat himself down next to Maz, where they’d both arranged their stuff to sleep for the night. 

He looked around wildly. Everything looked so different. It was like all the colours were somehow brighter. And everything felt strangely quiet. 

The sound of the city still existed, but everything felt quiet. He could feel the quiet and the calm in his bones, his mind felt like a smooth sea after months of heavy storms. 

“I know,” Maz whispered back, semi-smug but also slightly dazed. He looked calm. He looked content.

Peter felt like he was melting. It felt amazing. He laid beside Maz, and shit his eyes. He let the high roll over him like waves, and his mind had never felt clearer. Or at least, more manageable. He found it easier to bat the bad feelings away, and focus on the good ones. 

Peter had never felt better than he did that day. He let himself revel at the moment, until the high unfortunately wore off. And then Maz offered to share a joint with him, saying it would help him to fall asleep after. And Peter accepted. He didn’t see the harm, the drugs still lingering in the corners of his mind. Peter would have agreed to do anything with Maz that night.   
And a small voice in the back of his mind told him that he was going down a path he didn’t want to go down. And that if he kept going, it would get even harder to turn back. 

And Peter didn’t give a shit. 

And as he got high for the second time that night, he slowly sunk down into his makeshift bed, and he let himself be pulled into the first restful sleep in a long while.


End file.
